The Bastard Of Winterfell
by NotAHero101
Summary: Jon Snow just can't catch a break, read on as he's flung from his own world following the final battle in Kingslanding into one both familiar and yet utterly different in almost every way.
1. Ch1 Worlds Of Ice And Fire

**So recently watched the Game of Thrones Finale... And this came up. Don't forget to leave feedback! More I get, faster I upload. (I think, mostly why a lot of my stories get delayed, figure theres a lack of interest. Except for A Grindelwald's Tale, that one is genuinely just difficult to write at the moment. I want to avoid going 'The True Fairy Tale' route and ruining it.)**

...

The lone commander cursed as he walked on back towards Castle Black. An irritated look gracing his features. Leave it to Tormund to somehow wind up getting him lost Beyond the Wall of all places. Honestly, he should've never mentioned the Kingslayer's death.

Just beside him he heard Ghost's excited yelps as he ran around the wide expanse, Jon had to wonder where the wolf had suddenly got all the energy.

"At least one of us is enjoying this." Jon sighed as he walked on towards the Wall. "When I get my-" Whatever he'd been about to say disappeared as he watched Ghost quickly tense up, frozen as he looked towards a different direction. "What is it boy?" A serious look quickly took over as he knelt beside one of his oldest friends.

Ghost however simply moved his head to the side, tilting it the slightest as he stared past him, a confused expression on his face.

"Find someone?" Jon's expression softened when he noticed Ghost's ear perking up, a somewhat excited look replacing the previous. He chuckled at the cheerful howl, though he certainly felt at peace as he stood back up.

He idly wondered whether he should go off in the direction Ghost wanted, it'd mean taking a longer route back... Tormund would obviously have noticed his absence by now... Right?

"Love really is the death of duty..." He sighed after a few more moments of thought on the matter.

Still, he was curious as to what would make Ghost of all react in such a way. With that in mind, he turned left and followed the direwolf's directions. He certainly had enough provisions and it wasn't like there were many wildlings around, they'd only recently started returning. With the White Walkers gone, his biggest worry was likely to be a shadowcat...

Still, it couldn't be as bad as what happened in the south... Honestly, there's really no way that _situation_ could've been any worse!

And as Jon Snow stared at the rapidly approaching dark clouds, he considered that perhaps challenging the Old Gods was a bad idea.

...

Soaked, tired and a little hungry, Jon trudged on through the rain, a scowl on his face. Ever since he'd started trying to find whatever it is Ghost had seemingly spotted, the direwolf had refused to budge from the course. Always at least a few steps ahead of him, never turning back.

Honestly, with how badly the wolf was acting, you'd think he was walking towards Daenerys!

"Ghost!" Jon called out for the thousendth time, "Where are we going boy?" He questioned again, receiving no answer.  
It's not like he could just leave his wolf...

...

He was getting very tempted to leave his wolf.

They'd been walking for hours on end and yet Ghost refused to budge! Honestly, he was starting to think the wolf was going senile because there was simply no way a person could live this far out-

Jon stared, gobsmacked, at the small wooden house? That appeared on the horizon, hidden by the large barren trees. The entirety mostly hidden by snow. He turned towards his wolf, finding the animal sat on its legs staring at him with perhaps the smuggest expression Ghost had ever had. He hadn't even thought his wolf capable of such a look.

Warily, he put a hand on his sword and made his way towards the small wooden building.

...

"Hello? Anybody in here?" Jon questioned as he pushed through the open door. The lack of creaks suggesting someone still living in the place...  
But... Who could live through... Jon's eyes slowly fixated on the lone figure in the room, his body hidden by the small chair. A mane of black hair was the only thing he could see from his position.

Still, he'd known immediately.

"Uncle Benjen?"

And yet it couldn't be at the same time...

This one, for one thing, was still _alive._

...

He wasn't sure how to describe what he witnessed, one second he'd been staring at a very alive Benjen Stark, free of any and all of the White Walker's touch, the next he was falling down what he presumed were a spiral of staircases, said staircases disappeared in a puff of smoke as he landed.

When he blinked his eyes open, making an attempt to stand, he quickly took a look around. His eyes widening as he watched Winterfell's main hall come into existance. The smoke condensing and forming into each and every servant he could remember. No... Evidently, there were even more than even he realised.

And there, at the front stood his _family_. Right next to the former king of Westeros. Robert Baratheon.

"A dream?" Jon questioned somberly, no one seemed to notice him. Something oddly familiar. He wasn't sure if it was due to his status as a 'visitor' to this particular memory or because he was, well, technically a bastard.

Deep down, he somewhat missed the _freedom_ that had come with.

Still, he recognised the setting well enough, it'd been the first night of that horrible long moon.

And then he'd taken a proper look at the people around him.

Jon blinked a few times, furrowing his brow in the process. One finger instinctively went to his chin. Yet no matter how he looked at it, no matter how he tried to imagine it. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was very off.

And then he caught it, a strange chill running down his spine in the process, his cousins... They all looked young! Far too young! He knew for a fact they'd been a_ few_ name days older when the king had arrived...

By the old gods Rickon was still a babe!

Unfortunately, he didn't have another moment to ponder the strange... Mix-up? For the hall had quickly started to dissipate into smoke. The dream ending as quickly as it came.

...

Jon opened his eyes slowly, somewhat tired of having to deal with just about everything. He wasn't sure what other problems awaited Westeros, though he'd certainly hoped the Long Night would've been the last.

Even after all he'd lost. Evidently, it seemed the gods found it amusing to throw him into something else. For example, where on Planetos did his uncle come from?  
He'd seen enough of Arya's abilities to be suspicious.

"You're awake!" The man's voice remarked, a delighted tone to it.

Jon watched as his uncle quickly paced towards his side, his eyes widened when he noticed the red-hot looking dagger in his hands. He quickly got himself up, somewhat surprised at the lack of any chains before briefly pausing when he took in the confused expression on Benjen's face.

Benjen simply turned his gaze between Jon and the dagger in his hand, a small frown building up in the process.

"I've already checked... You bleed..." Benjen seemed to mumble to himself.

Jon watched in confusion as his uncle raised a hand towards his head.

"Uncle?" Jon questioned confused.

For some odd reason, the word made the man freeze up on the spot, immediately dropping his dagger in the process.

"What did you say?" Benjen whispered.

"Uncl-"

"WHO ARE YOU!?" Benjen roared, though as he took in the strangers appearance once again. He couldn't deny the resemblance.

Jon stared back wide-eyed, completely confused. Completely speechless. He didn't even react as the man put his hands on his shoulders, his eyes locked onto his own. Searching for something.

"Jon?" Benjen whispered.

"Aye." Jon replied on instinct, his head nodding.

He still wasn't prepared for the hug.

"How... You... You died... They said... They said you were betrayed?" Benjen mumbled, almost incoherently confusing him even more. He'd never thought he'd see the day where his uncle would be like this.

"I came back." Jon felt himself at a loss for words as he whispered what simply happened.

Benjen stared back, a steel expression on his face, before once again to Jon's surprise simply... Falling?

"Wasn't much to come back to,"

"What?" Jon replied immediately, he'd felt another chill for some reason.

Benjen blinked at the question before realising he likely didn't know.

"We lost Jon... We lost. The Others won."

"No." Once again Jon replied on instinct, shaking his head in the process. That was the one thing... The one thing that couldn't be questioned! "The Night King is dead, the White Walke-"

"Night King?" Benjen questioned bemused.

Jon froze as he stared at the man. "The one that controlled them all! The first White Walker."

Benjen stared back before, slowly, shaking his head. "It was no king that reduced the seven kingdoms to ice and snow."

"What?"

"Jon, how did you get here?" Benjen questioned as he stood back up.

Jon watched as his uncle made his way to what he presumed was the door to the exit.

"I walked..."

"Through that?" Benjen questioned as he opened the wooden door, revealing the snowstorm raging outside.

"Where are we?" Jon questioned as he got up off his bed shakily.

"Were in Dorne. We're probably the last two living in Westeros."

Jon stared ahead, his mind blank before another thought occurred to him as he shakily walked towards his kin. Where was Ghost? He couldn't find hide or tail of his friend...

What on Planetos had happene-

His eyes froze on the ground in front of him, just a few feet from his uncle was the man's dagger, now completely cooled off.

"Say, you ever find out who your parents were?"

Jon blinked, almost missing the question. There was no doubt about it... It was the same one. Though still, how had his uncle found it?

"Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark." Jon answered stonily as he eyed the dagger he'd killled Daenarys with.

As he eyed the blood streak seemingly forever implanted onto the blade itself...

What the hell was going on!?

"Huh... Starks do tend to take after their mothers... Should've known you weren't Ned's."

And what was wrong with his uncle?

**A/N: Hope the chapter came out well enough, I'll be uploading smaller chapters in Spacebattle first before compiling a few of them into single one here. Don't forget to leave any feedback!**


	2. Ch2 For Want Of A King

**A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback!**

**...  
**  
Jon sat in one of the, surprisingly comfortable, chairs in the room. There were a few around though most lookede unusable. His gaze, however, refused to budge from the knife in front of him. His uncle had put it back in its sheath.

"Too hot," He heard the man state as he fiddled around with one of the shelves.

"I'm sorry?" He questioned in return.

"The knife, if you're wondering why I don't keep it on myself. Get's too hot to carry."

Jon blinked at the words before he nodded as he turned back to it.

"I was curious where you found it..."

His uncle hummed at the words as he walked back carrying a small wooden chest, "Found it here," Benjen answered with a shrug as he placed the chest onto the table.

Jon furrowed his brows, "Where is here exactly?" His attention momentarily taken up by the small chest. Though locked, it seemed to have been damaged, what with the rather large hole on top. He could make out what looked like... Paper?

"Not entirely sure, used to be a tower I reckon. Was the only thing still standing when I got here."

"Where are they now?" Jon turned to face the man. There was an almost soulless expression on his face.

"Wherever the storm is," Benjen answered somberly, unsure of how to comfort the man, he couldn't imagine dying, only to come back to a dead world.

And yet, he still wasn't prepared to hear his nephew _chuckle._

"I suppose it's fitting really..." Jon remarked as he turned his gaze back ahead. "I didn't think the gods would punish me so soon for it though."

"For what?" Benjen questioned bemused, he'd made sure to learn as much as he could regarding his nephew, as well as his _accident. _Just as he was about to clarify, however, Jon quickly spoke over, giving the man the damning answer.

"Kinslaying."

Benjen stared at him for a moment before he quickly shook his head, a sigh of relief escaping. "What you did to that Karstark was an act of justice, not something the gods would never-"

"Look outside uncle," The three words broke whatever the man had been about to say.

"..." Benjen seemed to revert back to... Whatever state he'd been in earlier, evidently the surprise of finding out he had a living family member died out as he sagged into his own seat.

After another moment of thought, Jon perked up once again. "Uncle, when was the last time you saw me?"

Benjen blinked, one eyebrow raised. "The last time... You were still a pup, clinging to the night's watch no matter what I said or what you saw." He chuckled softly as he shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, the last time I saw you was Beyond the Wall, and I was _six_ and ten when I'd _first_ left Winterfell,"

"Beyond the wall?" Benjen questioned bemused, blinking as he caught onto the rest of his nephews' words. "First? You returned to Winterfell?"

He pondered the expected questions before he settled for a sigh, "I don't think were from the same... Westeros..." He finished lamely, unsure of what else to call it.

...

Surprisingly enough, it didn't take much to convince his uncle that they weren't of the same world. If anything, it'd been somewhat alarming how quickly he'd accepted it. At least until Jon remembered this man had seen the dead come back to life. A lot of things turned out to be rather mundane after that.

Of course, given they practically had nothing else to do, they wound up sharing stories anyway. His uncle didn't seem to care one bit that he technically wasn't the Jon Snow he knew, and far be it for him to complain.

Whatever reason he'd been brought here, whatever purpose, he was glad he was sharing it with the one man he'd never had the chance to truly speak to.

"God, I still remember the bruise she left on Ned," Benjen stated, amusement filling his voice as he gave Jon another story about his mother.

"She sounds kind of like Arya..." Jon admitted with a chuckle.

"Whatever did happen to her?" Benjen questioned, interest piqued. He'd never managed to find hide or hair of the girl after the Watch had fallen- There was a topic... Still, as he watched another smile appear on his face, Benjen felt himself relax, clearly can't have been that bad-

"She trained under the Faceless assassins of Braavos and used those skills to kill the Night King, ending the Long Night in my world!" Jon answered proudly, though his expression righted itself when he noticed his uncles face.

"You really won?"

There was no insult in the man's tone, not a hint of malice, nor disbelief. Jon knew the look. The desperation for a glimmer of hope... And yet, the expression didn't last, for both knew it was too late.

His world had won by the skin of it's teeth. And _they'd_ only gotten as far as Winterfell.

The moment it'd reached the Riverlands was the moment this world had lost. Which was why he simply had to know.

"What happened?"

...

"The war of the five kings took a heavy toll on the country,"

Jon straightened himself as he listened in, his uncle's tale reaching a point he'd understood... So many things seemed to be different already. It was oddly foreboding, and yet not every change so far had been bad per se... It was the sheer number of them.

His uncle words seemed to stop for a moment as he looked at him before he reached into the small chest in front of him and took out one of the papers inside. There were already quite a few strewn about. The man had kept up as many notes as he could, fearful he might forget anything.

"If anything it might've emboldened _them_ up north." Benjen stated with a disgusted tone.

Jon blinked, "Them? The _freefolk_ or the Walkers?"

"Freefolk?" Benjen raised a brow at the word, amused. "Rather fond of them aren't ya?"

"You can trust them." Jon's answer did what he'd expected as he watched his uncle flinch.

Benjen sighed after a few moments, "I am sorr-"

"I don't regret joining," Jon quickly spoke over the intended apology, "I just wish you could've at least warned me about a few of them,"

Benjen sighed again as he set the paper down. He'd been about to continue his story before a thought occurred to the veteran ranger.

"You know Alliser Thorne was a Loyalist?"

Jon stared at his uncle blankly, unsure where the man-

"A _Targaryen_ Loyalist,"

Jon Blinked once. Twice. On the third, he let out his first genuine laugh in _months.  
_  
"Whatever did happen to him?" Jon questioned, wondering if it was any different.

"Well, from the song they made about him, he remembered the _Stark_ and forgot the Direwolf."

Jon's eyes widened at the words... He almost couldn't believe his ears...

To think... They'd made a song about him.

"They made a song about him?" He almost whispered.

"Commissioned by _Lord_ Stannis himself,"

"Please tell me you have it somewhere in there?" He questioned, entirely missing the man's words, his eyes locked onto the small chest in front of him.

...

"Lord? How did that happen? Stannis wanted the throne, what changed his mind?"

Benjen nodded at his nephew, "That was the next point, as you already know, Stannis had marched north to relieve the Night's Watch..."

Jon nodded, idly wondering what would've changed had he not returned.

"After your _mutiny,_" Benjen spat the word out as if it contained poison, "Someone else made their flight north."

Jon froze. "Flight?"

Benjen nodded. "Queen Daenarys Targerayan,"

Jon's barely managed to keep a straight face as he took in the slight awe in his uncles eyes.

"Lot of titles that one," Benjen added with a hint of nostalgia. "When Stannis 'n her saw each other the Wall looked about to melt."

And yet the joke seemed to fall on death ears as Jon made no reaction. His eyes gazed straight through his uncle, wondering why Daenarys had decided to return so much sooner... For some odd reason, his heart seemed to beat faster, as if it were a warning...

"When they saw the Others though..." Benjen stated, with a hint of reverence to his voice, something that quickly took up his attention once again.

After a few moment's of silence, Jon spoke up, urging his uncle to continue.

"Sorry, just making sure you're still alive."

He held back the sigh of frustration, somewhat eager to hear more.

"Well, needless to say, they decided to throw their ideals aside for a moment and quickly united the Seven Kingdoms." His uncle _shrugged_.

"They worked together? Quickly?"

"It was history repeating itself, almost as if Aegon himself had come back."

"Stannis was fine with giving up the throne?"

Benjen, to his surprise, nodded. "On the condition that Shireen become Daenarys heir,"

Jon blinked at the words, it surely couldn't be that easy...

"Given she couldn't have children herself, she agreed. Neither side wanted to add to the army of the dead..."

Jon once again resisted the urge to flinch, the feeling from earlier returned in full force to warn him. To urge him... For what? He wasn't sure.

"Not that it mattered all that much mind you,"

"But you said they united all the kingdoms? And what of her dragons?"

"Aye, they were alive and well... Problem was we didn't have anyone to control them."

"What? What about Dae- The Queen?"

Benjen stared back, a somber look on his face. "The night before the first fight... She died."

"Died?" Jon questioned immediately, barely able to breathe-

"No one knows, one minute she's standing giving a speech to help bolster the men and the next she's on the ground lifeless, it shocked us all."

Well, at least that sorted the breathing problem, now he had an issue _slowing_ it down.

"When they checked her over, all they found was a single scar over where her heart was. Which, thanks to Stannis's reputation, broke whatever alliance they'd had. Not that I believe it mind you, I knew the man wasn't involved, hell his priestess damn near _shrieked_when it happened. And the united army fell apart." Benjen blinked as he raised an eyebrow at his nephew, "Jon?" He questioned panicked... He was staring back at him, a shocked look on his face. Did he say something wrong?

...

"Jon?" Benjen called out, a bemused look on his face. When he got no response he tried again, a tad louder. When that refused to work, he turned back towards the sheathed knife on the table. Benjen quickly moved over towards the fireplace, the blade held over it's embers.

He could hear his uncle, only he found himself unable to say a word. He'd doomed them. The blade in Benjen's hand the proof of it. He'd doomed them all. And for what? The wars had already been won. The night king had died... He knew why he did it, and on a subconscious level understood that his feelings on the matter had been only thing stopping Drogon from burning him alive. He'd done it because of what he'd seen in Kingslanding, Because near everyone had argued for it. Because...

Because.

That one word seemed to echo over in his hand. It was at that point he'd realised.

He'd made far too many excuses, for far too many people.

Daenarys did what she'd done because she'd felt threatened. Because she failed to understand Westeros's culture. She'd done it _because_ it'd worked in Essos. An almost entirely different world.

She'd wanted the people to love her but found now way of achieving it. The Lord's and Lady's of Westeros were not slaves. There was no quick method to attaining the continents love and respect. And Daenarys hadn't known that.

He could've told her.

Anyone could've.

Tyrion had been the only one that tried.

He knew he hadn't, and he'd paid the ultimate price.

Not only had he had to kill the second person he'd fallen in love with, someone who by all accounts returned the same affections, but he'd also doomed an entire continent.

Because of Politics. Because of his weakness. Because of _him.  
_  
"Stay still," Benjen urged, the red hot blade in his hand as he stood in front of him.

Jon didn't move a muscle, he merely stared at his uncle, the last Westerosi man alive thanks to him. He watched as his uncle moved the blade towards one of his arms, the man's other hand grasped it firmly. He simply watched as his uncle made the smallest cut on it.

For a fleeting second his mind seemed to calm itself, his hunger and thirst no longer a worry.

Just as he was about to ask, his uncle much calmer then before, his eyes rolled back into his head, his body practically crashed into the chair's backrest.

...

Jon blinked his eyes open causing him to wince before he raised a hand to block the sudden light engulfed on him. When he focused them, he found himself back on top of the wall. The sun beamed down on him. He took a look down in an attempt to find something-

Evidently it hadn't been that difficult to find _anything_. For just ahead of Castle Black's gate stood a literal army of men- Knight's Jon realised with shock. Just ahead of the large assembly of troops, which looked to be in thousands _atleast_, stood three dragons, the biggest of them at the head as if he were the spearpoint. Two of the dragons on the side both had riders, the largest one stood just behin-

It was himself, Jon realised. With naught but a dagger on his clothing.

Still he realised somewhat soberly, as impressive as the army looked... He doubted it would've been enough-

"Turn around." A voice startled him out of nowhere, causing him to jump, thankfully to the right side. He turned to his left and found a stranger cloaked n robes, a hood covering his head.

"Who are you?" He questioned, expecting to not even be heard.

"Turn around," The stranger said again.

Jon sighed and merely obliged before his eyes widened to their fullest.

Three armies, all bigger then what had been the _vanguard_ he now realised, stood ready to fight the Others should they manage to break through the wall.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The stranger questioned again as he turned towards him. Strands of silver hair revealing themselves beneath the hood. "In a perfect world, this would've been what awaited _them_."

"Who are you?"

The man smiled at the question, "The man who brought you here."

Jon blinked, bemused, "What's your name?"

The man chuckled before he shook his head, "Win the war again and I'll tell you."

"I don't want to fight."

"Have you ever wanted anything?" The man questioned with a raised brow.

"Peace."

"Then I hope you're prepared to fight for it."

"I already have! I've already fought, already died, already killed and betrayed everything for a peaceful world." Jon remarked tersely.

"Will you fight again?" The silver haired stranger questioned calmly, though he could see in the man's eyes that he knew he'd accept.

"Do I have a choice?" He grumbled somberly, the tension had disappeared as quickly as it came.

"No... I am afraid not."

Jon turned back towards the vanguard. he let out a sigh as he took in the sheer number of men. "A perfect world... The seven kingdoms would never so willingly cooperate... I ought to know. Even the threat of death failed to persuade them."

"Royalty very rarely have to persuade. They merely demand."

"I am-"

"What are you? Jon Snow the bastard of Winterfell? Or Jaehaerys Targeryan, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms?" The man questioned over him.

"Jaehaerys? I was told my name was Aegon."

"Were you now?" The stranger questioned, amusement filling his tone.

After a moment of thought, Jon quirked a brow as he turned to face the man. "A king could do it _maybe_. Not a prince, let alone a known bastard," he stated passively.

"But you are no bastard. Besides, you'd be surprised what a _Prince_ could do."

Jon made no reaction as he watched the world start to dissolve, the dream? Vision? Ending as quickly as it came. Judging by the man's lack of reaction, he seemed to know to as he spoke up once again.

"Do take care Jaehaerys, and be careful with that blade, it tends to invite unwanted attention-" The man started, only to abruptly stop as he turned towards the south.

"The White Walkers?" Jon suddenly questioned, when he turned back towards the man. His back hid away the man's face.

"Forgive me _Jon,_ but it seems you're about to find out..."

"Find out what? Are the White Walkers coming?" His voice echoed out towards nothingness as darkness claimed him.

_..._

Jon woke up with a gasp, he found found his uncle still in front of him, a worried expression on his face. "Are you alright?"

Jon blinked a few times, though he made no effort to speak, he did nod his head. Allevaiting his uncles concerns.

"I don't think you should use that blade uncle..." He suddenly found his voice as he eyed the blade in his hand.

"That... Might be a bit of a proble-" Benjen started, about to explain the magical properties he'd, so far, experienced before a disturbing silence filled the tower as three single knocks were heard coming from the wooden door.

"Walkers-" Jon questioned worriedly.

"The Other's don't knock Jon," Benjen stated passively as he got up, walking towards the door... Perhaps another survivor?

...

Benjen froze as he took in the strangers appearance, a tattered cloak covered the man from neck to toe, a pale complexion, long dark hair bellowing in the wind caused by the storm raging outside. But above all, what stood out the most was the single bright blue eye, dark coloured patch covering the other and his pale blue lips.

"Mind if I come in? It's a little chilly outside," _Euron Greyjoy_ whispered with a smile on his face.

...

**A/N Oh dear looks like we have a bit of a hanger on our hands... Sorry, not sorry.**

**Though I would like to know what some of you expect out of this encounter (To those who read the story on Spacebattles please keep it spoiler free)**


	3. Ch3 Abomination

**A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback!**

**...**

"Mind if I come in? It's a little chilly outside," _Euron Greyjoy_ whispered with a smile on his face, though his eye roved around the room as he searched for something.

Jon stared at the stranger, somewhat calmer then earlier having expected a White Walker, though he had to wonder why his uncle seemed to be so shaken as he took a few steps back, his hand gripping the dagger, his movements somewhat... Frigid?

"Uncle?" Jon questioned as the stranger took a step in.

"What a nice little shack you've got going on here... Still, one wonders how you've survived for this lo-" Euron Greyjoy started before his eye seemed to lock onto Jon's, a glint forming immediately. "You're not from here..." His voice took on an excited tone for some reason, "How in my name did you manage that?" The soft spoken voice had sent chills down his spine.

"Uncle, who is this man?" He questioned, his eyes kept the stranger in full view, though his mind wondered why his uncle had gotten so quiet, he'd merely taken a few steps back, not willing to speak, almost as if he were afraid a curse would fall on him...

"Ah, apologies... Where are my manners? My name is Euron Greyjoy." The man flashed a yellow tooth at him.

Jon blinked once before relaxing, from the way his uncle had reacted he'd expected worse. Though how the man seemingly manoeuvred through the storm was a question... His mind briefly went back to the warning the stranger gave. Considering the Euron Greyjoy he remembered, he couldn't see him being the cause of said warning... Perhaps it really was the White Walker's he'd meant? Though he certainly didn't need one to take care around them.

"I'd ask for bread and salt but that really doesn't mean much these days, does it?"

Jon winced at the words. Missing the subtle change in Euron's expression.

"**What are you doing here!?" **His uncle finally seemed to wake out of his stupor as he growled the question, a voice more wolf then human. Though the threat only seemed to make the man snort.

"My my, it seems I am not welcome in these parts."

"You're not welcome in any parts!" Benjen growled back, the dagger in his hand pointed towards the mass murderer.

"Oh?" The man chuckled, "I am afraid _they_ disagree."

"They?" Jon's mind blanked for a moment as he stood, his eyes locked with the Crow's eye, though he had a serene expression on his face, his own eyes said otherwise. Given the state of Westeros, it was rather obvious who the man meant. He hadn't really known the Euron in his timeline that well though he wouldn't put it past him to be a White Walker's worshipper given the stories he'd heard. He certainly wouldn't have been the first...

"Leave before I gut you like a snake," Benjen threatened as he took a few steps towards the man.

"So," Euron continued on, utterly indifferent to the two threats in front of him. "I am going to go out on a limb here and assume you're the one who's been taking glances at the **future**? I have to admit, the first time I'd thought a mere coincidence... The second though? And so soon after too..." The man _shuddered_ with excitement as he eyed Jon. "My my, how many secrets will I gleam out of you..."

The words snapped whatever it was that had held his uncle back as the man lunged forward, his blade gleamed as he made to pierce the crazed Greyjoy. Jon reacted just as fast as he moved around the stranger's back.

Both froze as they watched Benjen's blade fail to break through the man's skin, Jon's hands _froze_ as soon as he tried to grab him from behind.

"My turn?" Euron questioned, amusement filled his eyes as he took out the dagger hidden in his sleeves before proceeding to place it in the elder Stark's throat.

...

_No, no, no, no not again! _Jon all but screamed into his own head, his hands still feeling the backlash from attempting to touch the... Freak of nature in front of him. he grit his teeth as he felt the cold slowly reach up his arms, barely able to keep standing as he watched Euron turn towards him, a serene smile on his face as if he hadn't just killed his uncle.

"Well, that takes care of my job," Euron shrugged as he eyed his bonus reward. He hadn't expected to meet someone who'd returned from the dead _without_ becoming one of their thralls, let alone one that _travelled_ between worlds... And to think he'd found both in the same person, a man after his own heart truly. Well... Euron considered as he took in his appearance, perhaps calling him a man was a bit of an exaggeration.

"Damn you..." Jon strained to speak, as he urged his body to move.

"Ah ah! Let's all take a moment to calm down-"

"You killed my uncle!" Jon growled with as much energy as he could, the glare on his face would've made a _dragon _wilt.

"Yes well, not like he's the first uncle I've had to kill," Euron deadpanned.

"Why!?"

"Oh you know, why else does one kill but for reward,"

"Reward!? From who-" Jon's eyes widened as he watched the smile on Euron's face grow.

"Who else but the current rulers of this world? One old Stark is worth a mighty sea vessel don't you think?" The gleam in the man's eye increased.

"You're mad... They'll kill you! You know that-"

Euron crashed the back of his hand onto Jon's mouth cutting off whatever he'd been about to say as blood splattered from his mouth, evidently having touched a nerve. "Well, now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, let's get down to business."

"I'll never help you,"

"Help me?" The man snorted, "Who said I needed your permission, now be a good little bastard and fol-"

Jon growled as he made to knock the man down, what he'd give to have Longclaw right about now... His feeble attempt however merely resulted in him crashing to the floor nearby, his shoulder singed with ice almost causing him to cry out in pain. Even the White Walkers hadn't had such a presence, what on earth had this man done to himself!?

All the same it didn't matter in the end, the White Walkers would soon end him as well.

"They _will_ kill you and raise you as one of their-" Whatever he'd been about to say died out as the man started_ laughing_.

"Oh they would never dare, they came to me to ask for help in ending your uncle... Evidently they couldn't find him, who knew he'd still be in Westeros?"

Westeros... Did that mean the White Walkers had somehow crossed the ocean? Jon's eyes widened as he realised they likely had a dragon to manage such a feat.

"They don't care-" Jon started again, ignoring the sudden fact that the White Walkers likely had a dragon on their side, _again_. Still, he was pleased to at least get a reaction out of the man as he growled out of irritation.

"Let me put this in a way you'll understand, they've already tried to take me out, on two separate occasions in fact!" The man gleefully remarked. "You want to know what I did to the first Other _they_ sent after me?" He leaned in. "I stuck it to the bow of my ship and used it as a glorified figurehead. You know, after I got what I _wanted _from it_,_"

Jon could only stare in shock in return at the words, "You're mad... If you really think that'll stop them from-"

"Yes well, they certainly tried again... They even sent in their greatest weapon!" The man cackled at the thought.

The wariness from both the damage he'd received and his now _agonising _shoulder almost put Jon to sleep.

"Now they have no dragons, and I _three,_" Euron finished, the mad glint in his eye ever present.

The silence that followed threatened to break whatever bit of hope Jon had... _Three dragons..?_ Daenarys's? Which begged the question, where did _they_ find a fourth!? Did Daenarys have an extra one in this world?

"Of course kidnapping one of them did cause a bit of a setback in our 'partnership' but alas, they had more pressing continents to kill."

"You kidna-" Jon felt a shiver from the cold coursing through his body, breaking his concentration in the process. "Kidnapped one of them!?"

"Well yes, the first one melted," Euron quipped easily as he took a seat in one of the chairs, particularly Benjen's. "Now then are you going to behave? I'd much rather not scar your face... Just yet, I happen to like getting to know my victims before the _fun_ starts," He finished as he raised an eyebrow at Jon wondering if he'd oblig- He sighed when he watched the former Night's Watch commander reach for the dead Stark's Dagger. _Honestly-_ Euron's thoughts froze the moment Jon grabbed the dagger's handle, a blinding light engulfing the decrepit tower for a single moment before it disappeared.

He stared at the missing Night's Watch commander, his head tilted to the side. "A simple no would've sufficed," He stated passively as he made to leave. He idly wondered what sort of magical properties the dagger seemed to posses, whether the man had been relocated elsewhere or outright killed before he shrugged as he left through the still open door. As disappointing as losing him might've been, he had his payment waiting for him. And what Ironborn doesn't love a brand new ship? Besides, if he was alive, the next time he had a vision he'd certainly know where to look. Still, he did wonder why the Others had had so much trouble tracking down the former Ranger, it's not as if he'd hidden anywhere particularly difficult to find, he was fairly certain there was one nearby around the area, keeping the storm outside alive. Perhaps the tower had some magical properties itself after all.

Just as he walked into said storm, another thought occurred to him. It seemed he was visiting the nearby Other for more just his new ship, it _would _after all also need it's own figurehead.

He doubted they'd mind that much... And if they did... Then to hell with all of them, he had three dragons.

...

**A/N:The next chapter will be the start of the first arc, as of now this site has caught up to the Spacebattles one.**


	4. Ch4 Derailed

**A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback!**

**...**

Jon stared ahead uneasily as he quickly dropped the blade in his hand, _what happened-_ His thoughts started, only to to abruptly stop as he heard a whine come from beneath his feet. He turned to the sound, only to blink in confusion as he eyed the small pup near him.

"Ghost!?" Jon questioned abruptly as he stared at the unblinking red eyes of his direwolf. "What happened to you!?" He quickly knelt down towards his suddenly much smaller wolf. Had it been some sort of magic?

Before he could so much as raise the wolf up from the ground, he heard someone call out to him.

"You must be the bastard!" A cheerful voice spoke out earning his attention.

Jon turned to the new stranger, his eyes widening as he took in the man's stunted legs, _hideous _face and abnormal height. "What?"

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at the word, "Hard of hearing to? My the gods were not kind to you were they?" he questioned as he took a seat on the ledge.

"Who are you?"

"Dense too, one would think it fairly obvious, not many dwarves in a king's party." He snorted, albeit leaving out his name in the process idly wondering if the bastard had enough intelligence-

"Tyrion?" Jon suddenly questioned shocked, what had happened to the man's appearance!? The sudden question bringing him to his previous encounter with another man he'd failed to recognise.

"Lannister," The half-man corrected, "I am only a bastard in appearance I am afraid," He chuckled good-naturedly as his eyes turned towards the pup at the bastard's feet. "Is that animal of yours a wolf?" Tyrion questioned surprised as he waddled over towards him.

Jon had been about to answer before another thought entered his head, "What's all that noise?" He'd been hearing it for some time, music of some kind though mostly drowned out by... Some sort of celebration? Still, the sudden shock at seeing his wolf regress back into a pup had kept him occupied.

"I believe, that would be the feast currently going on."

"Feast? Where are we?"

Tyrion's face contorted into a bemused expression. "Did you hit your head on your way out bastard?"

"What? And stop calling me a bastard you _know_ I am-" Jon froze as he took in the Lannisters background. Winterfell... He was in Winterfell.

"Am what?" Tyrion questioned immediately, interest piqued. "If you're going to tell me your father's Eddard Stark, then I am afraid you still count- Where are you going?" He questioned suddenly as he watched the boy _run_ back towards the main hall. After a moment he turned towards the wolf still waiting on the ground. "You wouldn't happen to know what that was all about would you?"

...

Jon slowed down as he approached the main hall's open doors, a harried breath coming out, one that _seized _the moment his eyes landed on the front table. He could feel his hand shake, his breath refusing to come out. Evidently he hadn't gotten anyone's attention, the men and woman either too drunk to notice or simply didn't care.

"I believe you forgot this, bastard," He heard a voice behind passively state as he showed him the blood-stained dagger, "I may not be much of a swordsmen but even I know to clean a blade," Tyrion added on the moment Jon turned back towards him. A wide-eyed look on his face though he made no attempt to take back the blade. "I don't have all day you know, wine and wenches await-"

"Jon, follow me," Another voice joined the two still standing at the entrance, this time from inside the hall. Tyrion eyed the First Ranger of the Night's Watch, amusement still in his eyes as the man put a hand on his nephews shoulder, urging him to move... Somewhere. The two moving past him with nary a word, though the elder Stark did take the dagger out of his hand.

"It's as if I am invisible to these people," Tyrion muttered as he watched the two walk away, though _both _their movement seemed shaken for some reason. And here he'd thought the North's treatment of dwarves would be somewhat different. Alas, even a bastard seemed to dismiss him entirely, a new low for sure.

...

"So, Jon," Benjen started, as he turned towards him.

Jon stared around the area his uncle had decided to take him to, it _looked _like the Godswood he'd grown up with... Only... There was a sense of foreboding coming out, the bloody eyes carved into the tree almost seemed to stare right through him.

"Still want to join the Night's Watch?" Benjen questioned with a raised eyebrow as he took a seat in front of the large tree.

Jon turned between his uncle and the tree beside him, a bemdusedlook on his face before deciding to take a seat beside the man. "Uncle... What year is it?"

"The better question is, how on Planetos did you escape that crazed _squid_?"

Jon's eyes snapped to the man, widening in the process as he stood back up. "You remem-" He'd started before he felt a hand clamp his mouth shut. His uncle urging him to keep his voice down. Though he did nod to answer him.

...

"What do we do?" Jon whispered, his eyes glancing behind to make sure there were no one else about.

Benjen sighed as he looked back up on the heart tree. "The Wall needs to be prepared,"

Jon nodded wordlessly, "It won't be enough, we may even _need_ the southern armies if we want any chance of winning,"

They'd the spent the good part of the last hour talking, confirming the fact they were truly alive again, in the past no less, trying to figure out what had happened and though they hadn't figured out exactly how they'd gotten the second chance they did, they knew it had something to do with the magical dagger in Benjens hand. Jon had told him how and where the blood engraved into it's blade had come from, his uncle a silent vigil as he listened.

After a moment of thought, Jon turned towards his uncle, a grim line on his face. "Joffrey needs to die, his existance-"

"Cersei too," Benjen added on, interrupting his nephew, he'd heard the tales, he didn't need to be convinced on the matter. The two Lannisters had been the one constant between the two different worlds. The only difference been Cersei's end. While it had been in a blaze of fire, it hadn't come from Daenarys, no, the mad woman had burnt down Kingslanding in an attempt to take out the army besieging her. Leaving nought but ashes in her wake.

"Fath-" Jon stuttered the word, both because he knew it wasn't true, aswell as his own disbelief that the man was alive, _again_. He still couldn't process the fact. "_Uncle_ can't go south,"

"Do you know what had changed his mind the first time?" Benjen questioned, the man had known his brother hadn't originally intended to accept the Hand's pin. Something-

"Littlefinger," Jon answered immediately, Bran had told- Jon froze on the spot. "Bran... He hasn't lost his legs yet..." Without another word, he quickly pulled himself up. "We need to warn them." he stammered as he turned about to dash back into the hall before he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder holding him in place.

"And say what exactly? It has yet to happen Jon,"

"So what? We just wait until it does!? Wait until they push him out!?"

"Jon, you're but a boy right now-"

"I am not going to let _them_ _cripple_ him again!"

Benjen shook his head slowly, "Jon, think this through, if you barge in in claiming your brother is going to get pushed out of the window by the Queen and her brother no less, what do you think the King would say?"

"I'd say he'll listen if we tell him he has no true born children, that his wife is cuckolding him with her own _brother!"  
_  
Benjen sighed, "They will never believe you, you know that."

"Uncle might..." Jon whispered before his eyes locked onto his uncles. "Especially if you tell him!"

"Tell him what? That were from the future?" Benjen questioned with a raised brow, "Even my brother has his limits,"

"What if we tell him things we've no place knowing? You're a man of the Night's Watch and I am but a bastard as far as anyone knows, if he see's the truth in our words regardless then he'll have to believe the rest! We've no reason to lie to him uncle!"

"That would simply push him to go south, if only to confirm it and when he does-"

"The Queen will have him executed..." Jon slumped as he stared back down towards the ground.

"Accusations would only push him to accept Jon, we need him here, if only to prevent the North from being engulfed in the souths wars... We'd need something he couldn't dispute, something no one else could have... Jon?" Benjen questioned, somewhat worried at the glint that had appeared in his nephews eyes.

"You're right. There is_ one_ thing he doesn't need to confirm. One thing only the gods themselves could've revealed to me," Jon stated wordlessly as he turned back away from the Heart tree, his eyes locked onto the Great Hall.

...

Eddard Stark stared at his wife, panic growing in his stomach as he noticed her shaking hands.

"Can you read it-" He'd been about to question before he heard three knocks on the door, causing him to release a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He turned back towards the door to his chambers, taking a few steps past the bemused Maester. He ignored the way his wife's panic in hiding, both, the letter in her hand as well as her state of undress as he made to open the door, prepared to get rid of whoever it was-

"Forgive me milord but your brother refuses-" The guard started before the two intruders simply opened the door themselves and walked in uncaring.

"Benjen?" Ned's simmering anger disappeared as he at his brother and... Jon? he felt a sigh of relief escape at the sight. All things considered, he felt he had a good idea of what the man and boy were likely to ask him though he'd refuse them all the same, Jon was far to young to consider taking the Black. Still he knew this could wait until the morning, whatever it is Lysa had sent takes precedence-

"_Uncle, _we need to talk." Jon stated passively, his eyes watering as he barely managed to keep them locked to his own.

Ned stared at the two, his gazes shifted uneasily, the silence that permeated the sentence seemed to suffocate the room. He knew if he turned around at that moment he'd either see confusion or anger in his wife's eyes at the words. Whatever it was... Given the look both his brother and nephew were sending him, it'd likely turn to cold fury.

Oddly enough, Lysa's secret letter didn't seem all that important anymore. Though whether that was due to the fact he still had yet to learn of it's contents, or because he was about to tell his wife he'd been committing treason for the good part of 5 and 10 years, he wasn't entirely sure.


	5. Ch5 The Flutter Effect

**A/N: Please don't forget to leave feedback! And Enjoy!**

...

Eddard Stark was, as far as anyone else would tell you, a calm and collected person. And a small part of himself believed it too. Even before the rebellion he'd always been known as the quiet wolf, though that had more to do with his upbringing then anything else.

When you grew under the watchful eye of a man like Jon Arryn, you tended to learn a thing or two about patience. When you're closest friend just happened to be Robert Baratheon, you tended to see the kind of trouble a _lack_ of patience generally got you in.

Even in this scenario with his biggest, _treasonous,_ secret likely coming out, his wife _practically_ simmering with anger in their bed, he knew she wouldn't say anything as that fell down to him at this very moment though once the others left he had a feeling he was in for a rather long night and his own younger brother giving him a rather harsh look, from as far as he could tell, for there was no light in his eyes. Though he wondered how and where his brother had figured it out for there was no other way nor reason the two would be standing in front of him otherwise.

Even with all of that he'd felt collected.

Until he took a look at Jon's eyes. Until he locked eyes with the trueborn nephew who'd grown up believing himself a bastard. A small twinge of betrayal grew at the fact his brother had decided to tell Jon the truth without consulting him, though the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came as he tensed.

He hadn't noticed it immediately as the tears had taken his attention the first time. His nephews eyes... His son in all but name... Looked dead to the world...

"Ned!" Catelyn called out, her voice ridding the silence completely. No one else had spoken following the _bastards _proclamation... A proclamation that for some reason or other sent chills down her spine... He'd called him uncle... Which only meant he was Brandons for he could not be Benjen's... The nerve to insult her honour so openly! The feeling disappearing as she considered the words over, wondering what it would truly mean if they were true... Though she could see no reason behind it, if the _child_ truly was Brandons, why would Ned, _her Ned_ lie about it when it brought naught but harm- _Unless he wasn't a Bastard_ a dark voice whispered. _Is that why he cannot speak? For what else would strike him so speechless?_ Catelyn's eyes widened marginally as she turned towards her husband

The noise did not reach him, his gaze locked onto his beloved nephew. With eyes so dead to the world... So little light reaching them... The eyes of a man who'd seen _death_ too many times... He'd seen Benjen with such a look a few times over the course of their lives. Though that had always been due to his status as First Ranger... And even still... His nephews eyes were worse... Somehow _duller_ then a man whose seen the worst the North had to offer.

There was no life in. there was _nothing_ in them. Had he been _angry, _Ned would've understood. Had he had hate writ over, he would've still understood... But lifeless eyes... That he did not.

And then his nephew did the impossible, shattering his world even further.

"_Jahaerys,"_ Jon stated suddenly.

It was a name that should've died to the world on that night. A name only _he_ and his dear sister knew off. One even Howland Reed had not had the chance to hear...

And then his expression changed, grim determination filling his nephews eyes as he wiped away his tears.

"That letter hold's naught but lies against the Lannisters, lies to hide _their_ own hand in _his _murder..." Jon's words filled the room, Bran had ingrained the story in all their heads when they'd asked for Littlefinger's crimes. He looked about to say more before taking in the expression on Catelyn's face and deciding better of it, _for now. _

"_How dare you accuse my sister!" _The woman screeched lifting herself_._ Though Jon made no reaction to the words, he at the very least did cough and turn his gaze away.

"The Mockingbird sang and the Trout followed," Benjen seemed to whisper to himself, though the words reached the others anyway, a dark look grazing his features as he recalled his crippled- Not so much at the moment- nephews words. He hadn't considered the words the first time, as the world had long been lost by that point. In all honesty, he'd thought his nephew had simply gone mad for he'd spoken of naught but riddles.

A moment passed before the lady of the house realised her state of dress and promptly hid back under the covers, shock, anger and embarrassment fuelling her emotions as she watched the _bastard_ finally leave, her brother-in-law blinking a few times as he looked between his brother and _nephew, _before deciding to follow... Another action that sent more chills down her spine. Slowly she turned to her husband, the cold anger fizzling out as she finally noticed the _petrified_ expression on his face.

...

"Well that could've gone better," Benjen admitted as soon as they were back in the godswood,"

"It was harder then I thought... Seeing _him_ alive again..." Jon admitted quietly, his eyes locked onto the bloody face on the heart tree.

"Aye..." Benjen sighed minutely, as he stared ahead. A few moments passed before a small smile broke out on his face. "Ned always was skeptical when it came to old nan's stories..."

"Do you think he'll listen?"

Benjen turned towards him for a moment, "My brother will always _listen_... It's getting him to act thats the issue, though given the look on his face..." He chuckled. "Gods I've never seen him so speechless!"

Jon blinked a few times as he took in his uncles expression. He couldn't help but wonder where his uncle had got all that... Energy... Passion? The man looked full of life compared to him! "How do you do it?" He questioned tiredly. "How can you cope with all this so easily... I am _freaking out_ about... Everything over here."

Benjen turned to face his nephew, a thoughtful expression gracing his face. After a moment he simply shrugged. "I've always lived in the past, I never really wondered about _it_ all... Always too busy doing one thing or another. Up there Beyond The Wall you really don't hear much about the south... Though..." Benjen seemed to pause for a moment as he considered his next words. "If you're having trouble coming to terms with it... This might help..." He finished as he removed the dagger from his belt. "Certainly helped keep me sane,"

Jon narrowed his eyes as he took in the blade, "That thing's trouble uncle... It's how Euron found us in the first place!" He stated, his tone going quieter with each word.

"It's also how you got away remember?"

Jon gazed at it for a moment before turning away in a huff. "It always leaves me with a headache, even thinking about it is a pain!"

Benjen blinked a few times at the words, "I find we have different opinions on it... I think it's immensely useful, helped keep me calm in my stay in that tower, a small cut is all it required. Tended to drive away thoughts of hunger aswell, allowed me to ration what little there was much more easily."

Jon frowned at the words, not because he didn't agree as he'd remembered how it felt after he'd been pricked with it, but more out of the fact his uncle seemed to favour what amounted to _blood magic,_ for it could be nothing else, so much. "I don't think it's safe..."

"Perhaps it is perhaps it isn't, there's no denying it's useful. You said you received future visions from it did you not?"

"Yes... I think I did at any rate... But sti-" Jon tensed as he watched his uncle casually throw the blade, in it's sheath, towards him. He caught it on instinct wincing in the process before reopening his eyes when nothing changed.

"See, you're worried over nothing,"

"Uncle!" Jon called out, irritated at his Uncle's disregard. When all he received was look of amusement he simply sighed as he held the blade by the tip of it's handle. "Mayhaps you've used this one _too_ many times... Im surprised it hasn't been _covered in your blood _as of now_._"

His uncle shrugged. "You certainly did a good job,"

Jon twitched, half a wince, half irritation as he stared at his, evidently far too cheerful uncle. The man seemed to delight in the fact they'd gone back.

"Though I suppose you're right, we definitely don't want any unnecessary attention... Nor do we really need to use it as of now," Benjen admitted after gazing at the blade for a moment.

Jon nodded on with a sigh, relieved that his uncle atleast agreed.

"Though we might need it for the _King_ if theres any hope of convincing him,"

"That's another thing," Jon suddenly spoke up, a small light in his eye.

"Hmm?"

"I don't want to be king!"

"What?" Benjen blinked at the sudden proclamation, his head tilted slightly.

"I am just making it clear,"

"Here I'd thought you planned to return to the Night's Watch with me," Benjen raised an eyebrow, though his tone showed no surprise.

"For my third term? No, I... Probably won't go north, not yet..." Jon admitted, somewhat relieved that his uncle wasn't all that surprised about the words. "Actually," Jon started once again, subconsciously shifting the rather _hot _blade-handle in his hand. "I was hoping you'd do a few things for me when you returned... I won't be there so... I'll need you to keep an eye on a few people," Though before he could finish, a third voice quickly interrupted the two.

"Milord," A booming voice suddenly called out from behind. Jon and Benjen both turning quickly, Benjen seemed to momentarily freeze as he eyed the_ servant? _

"Y-yes?" Benjen quickly recomposed himself as he questioned the _rather large_ servant with a tight smile. Jon idly wondering if this man had harmed his uncle in some way or form in the past? Or even future for that matter.

"His Grace wishes to see you," The half-giant remarked easily, his back straight. Jon couldn't help but squint his eye as he wondered who the stranger was.

"Very well, thank you H- Wylis," Benjen replied, somewhat uneasily, he wasn't necessarily worried about the request, he knew it was going to be a simple drink, though he'd need to avoid too much lest he say something _dangerous_. He sighed wistfully, on instinct, at the memory, he hadn't needed to worry all that much the last time. In fact he was more worried about the _servant_ in front of him, and his rather shocking... _Personality _change.

The man nodded with a smile before he turned and returned wherever he'd come from, leaving the Godswood with a skip to his step.

"Uncle? Who was that?" Jon questioned curiously.

Benjen turned to face him with a frown. "That was... Hodor... Well it's what he-" When the look of bemusement in Jon's eyes turned to mild shock, he nodded somewhat relieved. "Oh good, you get it then,"

...

Jon was currently back in his bedroom, the very _exact_ _same_ room... He wasn't sure how he felt about that fact. The one thing that had managed to stay consistent was his old, unremarkable, room. After a moment he simply chuckled at his fortune, perhaps it was for the best. At least he hadn't needed to ask the servants _where_ his room was having found it within moments of leaving his uncles side.

Still, he'd managed to avoid seeing anyone else... He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it on his own as of yet. His uncle seemed take everything in stride... Himself not so much. _Gods! Robb's alive again! And Rickon..._ The very thought brought unbridled happiness from him but at the same time complete despair at the thought of meeting them again. One he'd abandoned... And the other he'd failed. He hoped to at the very least get enough rest... The entire day, from the moment he'd decided to follow Ghost to now had tired him beyon-

"Ghost!" He suddenly callout having forgotten about the _pup_ entirely.

...

After a pain staking search, for the wolf had refused to show himself, he'd finally managed to track down the rather irrupted pup.

He'd been hiding under his bed. He'd searched the godswood for near an hour and the little beast had been comfortably hidden under his bed.

It hadn't taken long before he'd crashed into his own after that. Unbeknowest to him, the bloody dagger hidden inside his bedside draw _burned_ bright with light as he slept away into the night.

...

Far, far to the north Beyond The Wall an almost ethereal being, **more a force-of-nature with the way the ice danced around and _through_ it then anything **_**physical**,_ laid it's back against the jagged throne made of ice, a seemingly dark glint resonating through it's bright blue eyes. A metallic sound scraped through the air as it spoke, one hand caressing the abomination of a throne as the other caressed the jagged scales beside it. Earning a deep _growl_ in the process. The eyes stared ahead unblinkingly, though it's true gaze was down south, closer to the Wall then to the cold desolate hall. Beings of ice, of unworldly power, _soldiers_ of death who grew more powerful with each victim stood _still_ as they all eyed the figure on the throne. All of them, gazed into nothing as their eyes saw what their brothers south witnessed.

_Two_ brothers for that matter.

_All eyes watched on as one brother forcibly walked into the run down keep, it's eyes focused on one thing and one thing alone._

_Vengeance._

_The other stood a few feet behind, ignoring the whimpers and cries in the creatures disgusting language. It ignored the pleas for mercy, mercy over him and his for the service he provided. Reason for their turn on him after so many decades of 'peace'. Cries over the injustice of being subject to a punishment he didn't deserve._

_Though nothing ever reached them, for the Other in front had simply raised it's blade before flashing down within an instant, though a warning jolt from within changed it's direction at the last minute, severing an arm instead of a head in the process_

_The whimpering man crawled away from the woman who had evidently scorned them._

_He wasn't wrong._

_The woman had_

_denied them their sacrifice._

_The Other walked on with light steps before reaching the bulging terrified woman. Her brown hair muddied from having tripped earlier The Other raised it's blade and struck and the woman knew no more as she fell. Her brown doe-eyes lifeless as she stared out blankly into the world._

The figure on the throne chuckled, cold wind slicing through the air in the process as the figure turned it's gaze minutely, drawn in the bright glow on the horizon. The light only _**she**_ could see.


	6. Ch6 (WIP)

**Author Notes: Just like with Grindelwald's Tale, will be uploading this slowly.**

...

Eddard Stark grimaced as he let the cold drink flood his system, the taste as horrid as he'd ever had it. He'd asked Maestor Luwin for something to soothe his headaches, to help him with the day. The previous night had been... Well, disastrous. Catelyn still refused to speak to him, she'd yet to even tell him what had been in her sisters secret letter, insisting on having him tell her first what was going on. Not that that was particularly easy, the king's visit was proving more troublesome by the second.

He sighed as he walked on towards his office, intent on having his brother be the first to come see him, in order to figure out whatever last night had been. The two had simply come upon him to simply tell him they knew his secret and also added on the fact that Catelyn's sister was doing something... Untoward. He simply couldn't just outright state she was doing anything without evidence... He pushed open the door, expecting to see an empty room before, to his surprise and shock, he found _him _sitting in his seat.

And just beside the heir to the throne, was a large, unidentified, man, his body laid on the ground, stomach first...

"Lord Stark, my _dog_ came across this man last night attempting to climb the Northern walls.

_Climb!?_ The Stark Lord wondered bemusedly, the man looked almost as large the King! _What on earth-_ A frown etched itself on his as he watched the heir gleefully turn the man over with a foot, showcasing the man's front had been slashed, with what had to be a blunted sword, repeatedly. It was only then he noticed the shadow on the corner, Clegane, the man's face scrunched up though there was a hint of... Fear? In his eyes.

"My prince... Perhaps-"Whatever the Lord had been about to say disappeared as the royal heir sneered before stating proudly that he wished to show his father his achievement, _and_ demanded Stark be the one to _host_. As if it were a cause of celebration...

"Joffrey! My dear sweet!" A shrill voice echoed outside his office, earning him another migraine, he really shouldn't have had that much to drink, as he turned around to see the Queen and her entourage.

The boy in question merely grimaced, though he got up quickly enough. Oddly enough his dog seemed content in waiting with the _wolf_. He supposed it was fitting, after another moments thought, they were practically family!

...

Eddard eyed the hound, the man had yet to leave even though his charge had already disappeared. After another moment, The lord considered simply telling him to leave before the scarred man opened his mouth.

"You Starks... You believe in your... Old Tales?" The hound seemed to hesitate as he questioned, his eyes switching between the dead and the living in the room.

"Old Tales?" Ned questioned bemusedly, "Which ones?"

The hound seemed about to speak before gruffly shaking his head, "Nothin', My _Lord_," His return to formality seemingly ended their discussion as the mans wept towards the room, no doubt to catch up to his charge. Though he stopped himself just as he left. "It ain't supposed to take that long to put down a man, especially one in his condition,"

"Clegane?"

Though the scarred man said nothing as he walked away. Oddly enough, from the rumours he'd heard, he'd expected him to move _away_ from the fire lit in the hallways, not pick one of the torch's up. He supposed they were just rumours after all. A man like him probably had few fears after all...


End file.
